


Pax Animi

by Begone



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Semi-Public Sex, Shadowbringers Spoilers, author's roman empire fetish and love of worldbuilding, flagrant use of italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 18:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20412322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Begone/pseuds/Begone
Summary: “I’m going to plow you into that wall.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If I said this was supposed to be a 2k pwp, _would you believe me_?
> 
> Originally intended as a chapter in my WOL's Amaroutine past. Maybe someday I'll harass Ao3 further by posting it. For now, however, I'm not gonna post my dossier on Janus because _look at the size of this lad_. I'm sorry if anything is confusing 'OTL  
SE give me more Amaurot lore, I'm dying here. I want everything.
> 
> Ch2 is standalone (but related to ch1) and a friendly bonus I very much enjoyed writing. You can read whichever first and not miss anything in the other.
> 
> ETA 2020: I don’t consider this fic canon anymore. I’ve done a lot of building and this no longer aligns with how I want to present things.

Janus was starting to think one of these clerks had taken a much deeper liking to him than previously suspected. Lucianus was the reason he originally came here, though. He and his old childhood friend had so much catching up to do, so little precious time he could use to slip out during Cyrus’ personal time. The man didn’t need a bodyguard then, seeing as he was presumably safe among friends, and Janus was more than happy to sidle off. Hell, the man even dismissed him for _sightseeing_!

“When will you stop bringing weaponry indoors?” Lucianus gently tutted him, not looking up from his work, focusing on cataloging some paperwork, knowing just from the pull of the aether in Janus' halo that he had made a weapon_ expressly for_ walking in here with it on his hip.

“When the front desk quits looking at me like that,” Janus smirked back, leaning heavily on the counter, eyes skimming the paperwork passing by. It was all boring, composed of words, numbers, figures and designs. And not even designs for weapons; he barely could recognize what those diagrams would possibly represent. Perhaps he just didn’t have enough time to look at them, perhaps they were just needlessly complex.

The aether shifted- someone’s halo was getting closer, and Janus had one guess that was surely correct. He was getting very good at distinguishing Amaurotines from each other by just their stingy aether halos- the whole city was seemingly allergic to even the barest scrap of individuality. How did Lucianus even stand it? How could Janus even recognize the lone Amaurotine hellbent on flirting with him?

“Look alive, here comes your beau, punctual as always,” Speak of the man, and he shall appear. Lucianus didn’t look up from his filing as the fellow Amaurotine sidled up, leaning forwards in a more Amaurotine-acceptable version of Janus’ stance. Pity, the devil-may-care slouch was quite fetching on Janus himself, _surely_ the man next to him copying it would at least give Janus a good laugh.

This particular clerk had been chasing after him the past few days, yet never revealed his name. Hell, every Amaurotine acted like their name was some sort of magical command that, if spoken, would turn them into a pile of foam. Janus was quick to let them know who he was when asked, and since learning that getting names was like pulling teeth, Janus freely gave his. It _always_ caught them off guard.

_‘Hello, I am a concept clerk here at-’_

_ ‘Salve, I am Janus of Cyrus’ Mark, sword to his name.’_

Oh they _squirmed_ at how different he was, and he reveled in it. Amaurot was so dull in comparison, so uniform and devoid of the spice that came from expression. Once, Gracchi deemed this city exemplar, but now the general sentiment was perhaps Amaurot could learn something from _them_. The variance in mask types seemed the only variable thing among them, with higher ranking Amaurotines gaining color in their masks. Amaurotines scored a point for doing _something_ different, then. But Janus ultimately had to rely on memorizing aether signatures and everyone kept theirs so tight he might as well pull someone’s robes up and go knuckle deep searching the nearest orifice for how tight they kept it. Lucianus was more lax, but his even seemed to have been pulled back from the centuries he spent in this city, compared to Janus’ lax, flagrant proclamation that he was in the area. 

Perhaps that was why his admirer was so quick to come down- it wasn’t like Janus was trying to be sneaky about his arrival. Guy had what, a _minute_ of forewarning to drop his shit and go do aborted attempts at flirts to him? He even learned how to announce himself by imitating Janus’ own corona, unlike the other, stuffier Amaurotines, but maybe even that could be chalked up to flirting. Frankly, Janus was getting a bit tired of the song and dance, desiring a bit more of the denotation and less of the connotation. He didn’t even know this guy’s name _or_ had an inkling of what he looked like under those robes. He could be flirting with anyone in the city and it… struck a minor chord in Janus. He was used to finding a body attractive, not these little interpersonal things. Perhaps that was the charm of it- finding attraction through a non-physical difference. For all that Amaurotines seemed hellbent on being uniform, their concept of love already had a huge fucking hole: since when was physical attraction different from attraction to someone’s differences in personality?

Bunch of hypocrites. He’d bring that up and someone would try to shoo him off to the debate hall. This was a city known for its pursuit of the pen and theory and knowledge, surely a little conversation on the little boreholes littering their city’s foundations could be civil for all of five minutes!

With Janus, probably not. He was far too blunt. His beau tried to pull him into the hall of rhetoric the other day, more likely out of amusement for himself than a desire to show Janus around the city. Janus almost threw a chair at someone and was issued a suspension until he wrote a formal apology. _Fuck that shit_. He barely remembered the discussion, too. Probably about the death penalty. Actually, _definitely_ about that. His one-masked fan club was bringing that up right now. The clerk in question tried to touch a single, slender little finger to his own thicker one and Janus readjusted his hand so it was further away, purely by normal _fidgeting _and not because he was consciously denying touch.

“-went to the Hall of Rhetoric the other day, fellow clerk. It was quite illuminating…”

“I didn’t get to see how well your chairs withstand hitting a face, so not as _illuminating_ for me,” Janus grinned as Lucianus gave him a _look_.

He remembered that look! Lucianus would always level it at him whenever Janus was far too blunt even by Gracchian standards. Thankfully the tell was all in the mouth, seeing as Lucianus now had a mask- as children, they did not- and everything else was hard as hell to see. Janus half missed those days, but oh well.

“You caused quite the commotion, I didn’t know you felt so strongly about ah…”

“Killing people? The fights are fun as fuck to watch,” Janus lifted his hand, sending another attempt at a surreptitious finger-touch into the gutter, and waved it in gesture, propping his head up by the heel of his hand.

That made Lucianus hiss a breath through his teeth, pages crinkling as he shoved some files less-than-gently into the rack. The clerk at the counter tapped his fingers on the marble, silent for a moment.

“You made that, and your ability to fling chairs I thought too heavy to lift, quite clear. But ah… watch?”

Janus hummed in approval, Lucianus took a sharp breath. Janus knew he jerked his head up, ready to say something, likely along the lines of Janus was joking or exaggerating. Trying to not confirm that stereotype that Gracchians were all barbarians. Unfortunately, Janus was quicker and gave less of a fuck.

“Oh yeah, death by combat is a thing. I’ve seen one or two,” And it was very _illuminating_ to see that all the victims were from the Purpura Marcam, up against beasts that were engineered to cater to their weaknesses or calling up their gladiatorial coterie to die for them. Oh he knew it was murder, that tyrian was the color of clotted blood. Real eye-opening, truly, and he probably was still processing it slowly in his head. For now, he would joke and laugh and avoid really thinking too hard that he was part of that gladiatorial coterie, because then he might throw a chair again and he’d _really_ hate to lose his one shot at getting laid this whole trip.

Lucianus rolled his eyes at him, “He’s quite old-“

“You’re much older than me, don’t deflect!” Janus whined back, putting on his best puppy-dog grin.

Lucianus groaned, deciding this was not worth his time, “I leave you two to your next date. Shoo. I’m getting an ulcer from proximity to you, J_anus_.” A handwave at them both followed by a ferocious point was aimed at the guilty party.

“Aw, you love me, I know this,” Janus purred, laying a hand over his heart and listening to the indignant hiss next to him.

“It is _not_ a date! I merely am showing him around the city when his _childhood friend_ cannot!” And this was why he didn’t just tell his would-be-beau to consign those thoughts of fat, uncut _barbarian_ dick to his palm every night. That slightly nasally voice was so satisfying in sarcastic rhetoric too, made a thousand times sweeter when it was used for Janus’ defense.

Lucianus had a childhood of annoying hangers-on, Janus included. He deflected them both with a singular handwave, “Shoo! These papers are much less annoying than you both. I have work, unlike you two.”

He loved Lucianus. He really did.

Today’s romp led them to a park, the clerk nattering on about the history, purposes, uses. Janus knew how to use a park. That was simple to understand, even for a so-called _savage from the west_. The man in front of him, though…

“How long have you been working there?”

The clerk stopped in his tracks, making Janus finally come into contact with him. A simple bump, but he sent the man stumbling a few steps with his bulk. He _saw_ that knee. He saw it buckle when it shouldn’t have. Bastard was getting his illicit, explicit, dirty _dirty_ hand-touching now. Sneaky tactics, but not sneaky enough to avoid Janus, _but_ he’d give him that, for it _was_ enough to fool someone who wasn’t a trained gladiator for a good few thousand years. Janus mumbled his apology, bending down to offer his hand to help the clerk up.

He lifted him up without even grunting. Man was a beanpole made from fabric and pixie floss, no challenge at all. Janus loosened his grip, let the guy pull his hand away when he felt like it, and oh did he linger for a bit more than was socially acceptable even for a _Gracchian_. “Before you shoved me to the floor, I was going to say such questions are expressly personal and-“

“Then what’re your plans for the future?”

The mouth clicked shut, opened, shut, and then finally took a deep breath before the clerk could compose himself to reply, “…I wish to one day take the seat of Emet-Selch.”

Janus let his head tilt into an inviting, non-verbal question. And promptly spaced out, because he didn’t care much about what these positions did so much so as getting something out of the guy. Whatever this droll Amaurotine foreplay looked like. Really, was asking for _work history_ tantamount to winking and tonguing his lips before asking if someone could massage his third leg? The talking stopped. Janus waited a second or so for no more words, since he had his next sentence prepared before his partner even began the explanation.

“You’re young, aren’t you? I’m sure you have some experience that’s gonna point you in the right direction. Or are you just starting to find it?”

Another pause. “That is an even more _personal_ question,” The clerk bit out.

This was _definitely_ Amaurotine flirting. It _had_ to be.

“I’ve had my years in apprenticeships. Though, I really wanted to impress the Purpura Marcam with my fighting skills- get one to take me on as a bodyguard. Took me a few hundred years to say I was any good at fighting, more to say I had the discipline to make weapons worth a damn or on command,” Janus scratched at the stubble of his beard, this was the most he ever talked about himself, “Ah… well, obviously I’m enjoying Cyrus’ patronage, so I impressed someone. You could say I’m set.”

The clerk had been staring at him throughout his summation of his long, long life. Janus shrugged at him, “Blood, fighting, smithing. That what I can sum it up to.”

“Ah,” The Amaurotine pauses, “I had a feeling you’re a bit older than me, despite how… juvenile you are at times.”

Janus snorts, then raises a brow, “Still barely know anything about you and that glorified desk job you’ve made your name.”

“…Such personal questions are a blatant declaration of romantic interest,” He sounded almost sad to spit that out, jolting when the bells began to ring, a new hour dawning.

Janus could have a lot of fun with this. No shit clerky-boy, he figured that out _real fast_ with all the hints that he’d been dropping. “And what if I have no desire to stop?”

The clerk froze again, and this time did he look young and naïve, despite the regal air and mature speech. Well, that description was from Lucianus’ words. Even Janus could see that the clerk had the type of crush that could drive sense straight out the window, and in this case, it was a teensy bit endearing. However, the clerk managed to drag his best customer service face out and give Janus a taste of that side he supposedly showed to everyone else, “My break ends in the next hour. As much as I would like to continue our tour of the park, I ask we reconsider another day. Would you like me to bring you back to the –“

Words words _words_, and Janus had a plan. He grunted an affirmative, earning him a thin-lipped look for a moment. No doubt he interrupted. Oops.

Exiting the park was simple, but Janus needed them to be alone. He turned heads, being not so prominently covered as the rest of the Amaroutine lot, a bit (lot) taller, and with a sword, to begin with. But, just past the park’s entrance, he could swear he had a good opportunity: he gently tapped the clerk on the shoulder, leaning down for a conspiratorial whisper.

"Want to see how we flirt back home?” Janus lets his voice rumble, smirking from ear to ear, as wolfish as his mask. The clerk freezes, tightens his jaw, and then gives a hasty nod. Well Janus had the go-ahead, now to find where. There were alleys between the skyscrapers, faint traces of aether belaying what they were used for. He wanted a service one, something not commonly used as a shortcut. He was going to do some shit even most people in _his_ city-state would call him adamantium-balled for.

He led the way, the clerk following in his footsteps, for once slowly unfurling his aetherial corona, poking curiosity at Janus’ edges. Janus kept silent, slowly provoking a tiny bit of anger, which amused him to no end. Amusingly, all the Amaurotines Janus had the pleasure of knowing were less dexterous in the use of their coronae. They merely were content in the simple expansion and contraction of it, not really caring (or even knowing?) that they could finely manipulate the halo like they could their hands. It was in a sense an extension of their soul, intrinsically tied to their creation potential, an incorporeal sort of hand. Perhaps it was Amaurotine politeness that deeply ingrained the notion of what their coronae could and could not do. Either way, this clerk showed earlier he was a quick study, which had Janus hopeful.

The clerk finally took point after the second block they passed, turning a corner to stalk back to the bureau that he worked in, and then Janus finally found what he was looking for. He took one stride to make up the distance between his victim’s quicker ones, gently cupped his right shoulder, and pulled him to the side. His hand moved from shoulder to the fringe of the man's hood, mentally cheering at finding the alley shady enough in the afternoon light. Irritation pressed uncomfortably into Janus’ corona, like thousands of blunt needles, so he moved at once to capture the clerk’s undivided attention.

He knew the man weighed next to nothing for him, so lifting him up to pin his back to the hard building wall was easier done than said. Surprise flared instead of annoyance as Janus pressed back with a soothing touch, curling his halo into smaller tendrils. The poor clerk was a bit off the ground, but Janus had him and that was irrelevant, because he was more than happy to close the distance between them and kiss the man on his lips, letting their masks click together with the hollow echo of bone. Chaste, flesh-to flesh, not even the hint of tongue, because with all the details of Amaurotine life Janus had been given ad nauseum, tongue _might be_ obscene.

He was pleasantly surprised to hear a small noise of stunned pleasure, followed by a sharp spike of lust in his partner’s corona, trying to tangle up in his own, inexperienced, overwhelmed, and trying to mimic Janus’ earlier actions. Janus started him slow, only his own mouth slightly open, licking the clerk’s lips and gently nipping on his plush bottom lip, forgoing his earlier “chastity.” A few seconds into his ministrations, the other man gently opened his mouth and Janus took that as a chance, running his tongue along teeth and eliciting another faint, relieved moan. He pulled a bit of the other’s aether into his own, a gentle, kneading roll, like one would gently thumb another’s palm. The clerk’s hands settled on Janus’ neck, the sides of his arms pressing in, fingers gently roaming on the back of his pallium, nails pressing into his back, too light to hurt, but hard enough to know they’re there. The clerk’s halo attempted to reciprocate, clumsily but steadily getting the hang of acting less like a sphere and more like an amorphous mass.

He still staunchly refused to give Janus his name, even as he let Janus’ tongue run over his teeth. Though, that in and of itself _may_ be the reason why.

And that is where they were, Janus and the man who had one of Janus’ hands holding up his ass while the other traced his jaw. This clerk that whimpered and moaned and softly demanded more, more, more from the press of his face against Janus’ and the way his corona flared at every nip at his lips. The man was in new waters, trying to mirror Janus’ movements, shy and coy and _excited_. It was almost adorable, in a way, but Janus’ plans were not as fleetingly saccharine as two shy virginal lovers sharing their first kiss. No, he made that clear after the clerk’s lips were swollen red and sleek with spit, pulling his head away to look straight into the eyeholes of his mask.

His unnamed beau’s lips were parted and lax from Janus’ earlier ministrations, but a few seconds of inattention made discontent flicker faintly on his face and thud into his field, buzzing like a hive on the verge of swarming. Janus gave him a sweet smile, thumb flicking out to toy with his partner-for-the-moment’s lip, pressing the pad of his thumb up and swiping across slick skin. Janus clicked his tongue in a small chastise, “You want more?” He grinned, offering this paltry lip service but oh so eager to give _all_.

The clerk’s voice was weak, breathless, cracking in how hasty it came out, “_Yes_.”

Blunt Janus was, quick to be vulgar when he should not. But if there was one area he knew when to grab his reigns and nearly snap his neck as he pulled back, it was in this realm of pleasure and mutual companionship. So he didn’t blurt how dominating the guy’s mouth gave him at best a half-chub in his subligaculum. He didn’t mention how they were almost chest-to-chest in an alley, right in public, liable to be broken up should someone stare down the barrel of the lane and spot them in the late afternoon gloom. No, Janus kept his mouth shut, mainly because he didn't like the crawl of heat the latter sent to his groin. He tightened his grip on that bony ass and shifted the man to straddle his leg, leaning forwards to press his slowly-hardening cock into his thigh as the same time Janus pulled his mask back and dove into the crook of the clerk’s exposed neck, the only skin apart from hands all these Amaurotines showed, to layer kisses feather sweet and wet.

The reaction was a whipcrack of surprise and then a fallout of so many emotions popping like embers in a firepit. _Lust, desire, surprise, need, want, excitement_ all unabashedly exposed before a wave of embarrassment rolled in like storm clouds, sweeping all those delightful _individual_ emotions away and pulling that halo so close to the skin that Janus felt like he’d have to bite to reach it.

And bite he did, licking over the hollow of a collarbone before sinking his teeth gently into the thin muscles above it, not hard enough to hurt, just a light nip, nothing more. A warbling gasp came from his partner, the grip on those emotions faltering, making Janus chuckle into his skin. He kissed the imprint of his teeth, hard enough to see marks but would fade away easily without the help of magic. Tonguing each imprint of the bottom row of his teeth, Janus ghosted his breath over the light wound, punctuating his words with a gentle grind on the clerk’s leg, “Too much? I can end this-“

“I swear if you pull away I’ll _ride you on the ground_,” The husky growl said straight into Janus’ ear made him smirk into the other man’s shoulder, bared teeth pressed into the bite mark. He gave a light nip to the same area, kissing it before moving up to nibble at the clerk’s jaw, feeling a hand come up to dig into his short hair, the other hesitating on his back.

Janus’ eyes were half lidded as he moved up the clerk’s neck after the outburst, feeling the other man’s grip tighten, seeing a single, golden eye a shade lighter than his own, watching from under the mask. He kissed the corner of a deep-set frown, plotting his next move silently.

Janus’ hand rose up to the clerk’s mask, thumb tucking under it, pausing. A second passed with no noise of dissent, so Janus pulled back, letting it and the hood fall to the side as he moved to take the man’s earlobe in his teeth, tracing the shell of his ear before sucking. A harsh whine was his answer, another smile earned from Janus. He swapped the hand on the clerk’s ass, using his newly-freed left hand to pull the fabric of the robe further away from his neck, so Janus could remove his mouth from that ear and go back to biting and sucking lower than he was before.

The panting came faster as Janus started to see how much force he could put behind his bites, how hard of a hickey he could suck, before the clerk would let him know too much. He finds the limits by leaving a trail of purpling petals and sharp, crimson flowers of teeth. Surprisingly, his partner could take a shocking amount of pressure. Only when Janus is starting to put enough force into his bites to break skin, _then_ the low groans and sharp hisses stop and turn into a smack on the back of his head. Point noted, and he would toe around that limit as he moved to the right, shoving robes down deep to suck a few hickeys before the hand in his hair attempt to pull him up. It’s a weak gesture, but Janus, fair in love and brutal in war, humored him, following the tug up so his partner could capture him in an open-mouth kiss.

Gold met gold, both half-lidded but framed differently on their faces- one pair mischievous and the other relaxed. Janus leaned into the kiss, letting the clerk lick at his teeth and run his tongue against his own, focusing on what his _looks_ were. The most noticeable was the streak of grey in his bangs, his chin-length bob cut black and airy against the white-grey of the stone. Janus’ lips tugged up into a half-smile, pressing into the other man, grinding his hips against that thin thigh, letting a satisfied breath out through his nose as his half-hard length caught on the fabric it was boxed into. The clerk’s eyes widened as he was abruptly reminded of what was in front of his leg, pausing to pull away, catching his breath in a few gasps.

“Have any plans for that?” He whispered, bucking his own hips forwards and oh boy. The guy was rock hard against Janus’ other thigh, gritting his teeth as he humped Janus’ leg like a randy dog, halo finally back out in full force, forcing Janus’ own into pulling back and becoming less responsive from the sheer _lust_ and _want_ on the surface that threatened to turn his thoughts heady and thick by association.

He leveled Janus a triumphant smirk when his hand came down to pin the clerk’s hips to the wall, his brief exposure to the other’ halo making his cock twitch in his breeches. “I do, but perhaps I’ll be open to outside input this once,” Janus shot back, leaning forwards to give a chaste kiss on the lips for just a moment, not reacting but noting the way the man chased his lips.

There was a soft hum, a quirk of lips. “Let’s hear your idea first.”

There went his chances of that soft mouth saying something sinfully carnal. Janus only let his lip twist in his disappointment, but then again… He locked eyes with the clerk, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m going to plow you into that wall.”

He got a reaction, all right. The man was frozen for a moment, edges of his halo jagged and inert from shock, a sharp contrast from the overwhelming aura from before. Slowly, the clerk licked his lips, staring straight at Janus and then looking away, face flooding with color. Janus let himself chuckle at that, earning an icy sneer, yet the color refused to fade from his partner’s cheeks.

Without verbal input- likely from embarrassment- Janus had to take the lead again, one hand settling on the other man’s right hip again, making him flinch and jerk his head up at him, eyes wide and pupils blown wide. Janus rubbed circles into the fabric with his thumb, his blood surely going south as he not only ground into the clerk’s leg, but also thought about rutting into him, reducing the man to a panting and moaning mess under him. Janus grit his teeth, biting into a shoulder as he could feel his length twitch at the thought of how _tight_ this guy would be. Discipline, pull his halo back lest he flood the other with his thoughts. No way was he going to embarrass himself today, he had to just remind himself he was actually not in _public_-

A stab of arousal curled in his gut, sharp and toe-curling. Ah fuck, worst time to find out you have a new kink. There was a hand in his hair, gently running through it, nails teasing his scalp. Janus _could_ walk away, let the guy scream in indignation, make good on that promise to _ride him into the ground_. Having this beanpole of a man try to tackle him to the ground, tear his dick from his robes, and suddenly engulfing Janus into that tight, wet heat as he bounced on his lap like it was the last fuck he’d ever have was quite stimulating indeed. A sharp sting of pain across his jaw made him release the clerk from his teeth, jerking away and giving the golden-eyed minx a pointed look.

“You were tearing my skin off, you _ass_,” He hissed, and that prompted Janus to look down, where blood was welling into a deep bite on the clerk’s neck, the area a brilliant shade of livid red going onto purple. And it was on the column of his neck, an area that would definitely need magical healing to be anywhere near presentable to anyone else. _Oh_, Janus deserved that slap. He sucked a breath in, gently kissing the clerk’s lips in silent apology, getting a grunt in reply.

“Now quit using me as a chew toy, _Janus_, and help me get my robes off,” That same hand that slapped him now cupped his face, delicately groomed nails scratching at his stubble. The way he said his name elicited a shudder from him and he gave those lips one last kiss before he moved his head back down.

The clerk’s other hand placed itself over the hand Janus held his hip with, gently tugging it away. Oh _fuck yes_, they were delaying the inevitable for far too long. Janus pulled his hand away at the delicate urging, adjusting to let his beau tug his robes up to his hips, exposing his skin-tight pants. Janus’ leg was dug firm between his legs, becoming reacquainted with the hardness that swelled there as he moved to accommodate, only feeling what was happening below the belt, his face pressed into the crook of the clerk’s neck, gently nipping and licking to further apologize for his earlier lapse of control.

The feeling of creation magic sparked between them, humming against Janus’ thighs, a gentle heat like freshly-dried laundry. He jerked his head up, feeling something change between them, needing a moment to realize the clerk just dissipated his pants. He leveled the question with his eyes, an eyebrow raised. His answer came as a hump to his leg and a smug, shit-eating smirk. Well shit, your funeral kid. Making things was far more troublesome than destroying them.

Janus didn’t have a penchant for destroying his clothes, however, but his own pallium and undergarments were far easier to take off than those skin-tight pants. Janus pulled away, watching the clerk immediately lock his eyes on his crotch. Fine, you get a show. A quick one-handed adjustment of his belt kept the end of his pallium off to the side, exposing his undergarments, which were easily loosed with a pull of a string, falling away to hang askew on his thighs, letting him hang heavily between his legs. The loss of the confines and friction of his clothes was a minor loss, but Janus was drinking in the attention trained on his dick. Besides, he’d get a better replacement for his pants in a few minutes. A slender hand hovered near his length and Janus nudged it closer, digging his nails into the now-bare ass his hand was on, relishing the short gasp he elicited from it. Fingers curled around him, lazily running up and down his length, more of a tease with how slow that hand was dragging against his skin, denying him all the friction of a good pace.

“Think I’ll fit?” Janus smirked, giving a good-natured length. By now it was clear Janus was much thicker and larger than the clerk, who probably hadn’t even had his smallest finger up his rear before.

He got a frustrated huff, the hand around his cock tightening, thrusts shorter, faster, dragging a soft grunt from Janus. “You’re a fool if you think I won’t,” his voice was breathless, struggled out for one reason or another.

“Listen, I’ve been around-“

“_Every_ night I shove my fingers to the knuckle thinking of _you_,” the clerk hissed back at him, bringing his sneer dangerously close to Janus’ face, punctuating that with a hard flick of his wrist. Well, if that didn’t make Janus blink in surprise, jerking his head back, making the grin on the clerk’s face even more sinister, “So yes, I think I can take you, _Janus_, so for creation’s sake split me open, you brute, I’ve had enough of your teasing!”

His dick jumped in the clerk’s grip, that feral grin on his face going crazed, and Janus may have to reevaluate just how harshly he blueballed this guy to get him to this point. But damn, if that _didn’t_ appeal to his brain _and_ dick. And he was _not_ going to mention where they were, half worried the spell would fade and there would be two men leaving this alley high and dry. He was roped into an open mouth kiss, the clerk pressing into his face, desperate, whimpering- wait. Where was his other hand? There was one near his face, and a slick finger brushed up against the one cradling his ass… ah. Oh that was hot, he probably had been fingering himself since he disintegrated his pants. _Wait_, oh Janus was an idiot, why would he use _creation_ magic to destroy? He probably just used it to oil his hand up, the act hiding the lower notes of dissipation, and Janus, horny as he was, went along with it.

It was a horny surprise, one Janus welcomed like the hand pulling at his dick and the lips and teeth on his lips. He jostled the man as he readjusted his grip, both hands on his ass now, taking a finger and poking the man’s wrist, letting him pull out with a barely-audible wet noise. The hand on his cock disappeared and was replaced by a much warmer, slicker one. Janus sharply inhaled into the man’s mouth as that hand started to move, squeezing tightly to make up for the lack of friction the oil brought. A thumb swiped his cockhead, smearing his pre farther down his shaft, mixing with the oil, coaxing a long growl from Janus as the pad of a thumb rubbed the underside of his head.

The hand on his shaft was not there for long, only long enough to coat him in oil and leave him teased, trying to buck into the hand as it retreated. The clerk smirked into his cheek, pecking a kiss into it, “Put that into something better, hm?”

He liked this guy’s dirty talk.

Janus shifted him, letting his weight rest on one of his palms, feeling the clerk’s hands come up to his shoulders, the man leaning back, eyes half lidded, grinning at him with the most lascivious smile Janus had ever seen. And who was he to deny that, as Janus took his cock in hand, jostling the clerk’s hips as he folded the guy almost in half, fingers sinking in on Janus’ neck before they fell to the wayside as slender, flexible legs settled on his shoulders.

The slide in was smooth and made Janus press his forehead against the clerk’s, who shifted under him. He wasn’t too tight, but just tight enough for Janus to know he was bigger than what he usually used, on the cusp of too little preparation for too much. It was a struggle to go slow, but Janus managed, drinking in every soft noise he got from the other man as he put inch after inch in him.

Hips met ass, Janus kissed his lips, earning an eager and open mouth to run his tongue into. God, he was so warm and wet, just the right amount of friction clamped down on his cock, Janus begging his hips to move slowly. Janus’ eyes were half lidded, running his tongue along teeth, sucking a lip into his mouth, letting the clerk get a feel for him before he started a rhythm. He waited a few painful seconds before he pulled his hips back, eliciting a gasp from his partner. Janus locked the clerk’s hips in place, to prevent him from bucking back.

“I think you requested… ah… me splitting you open?” Janus gave a wolfish grin, watching the clerk takes a sharp hiss of air, baring teeth in a tiny smirk.

Janus didn’t give the dignity of waiting for a reply, shoving his head into the opposite shoulder that grievous bite mark was on as he slammed back in, taking flesh between his teeth as he started to buck at a ferocious pace, digging his nails into the bony hips he was pinning in place. He heard the sound of flesh striking flesh before a wretched howling moan came out from his beau as his brutal pace angled up, Janus’ cock rubbing against his partner’s prostate. That soon descended into gasps and heavy pants as Janus blithely continued his brutal pace, his own heavy panting and deep moans at every minute tense tighter from the man he’s in muffled by the shoulder he’s gently chewing on.

He was a restless man in the sheets, not satisfied by only what he started with. Janus let the pace wind down, kissing a line up his partner’s neck, nipping the jawline as he chased his bobbing head with every harsh thrust. A confused whine left the clerk’s throat as Janus’ pace became more languid, but he didn’t sound disappointed later when that meant the accuracy of his thrusts drew the most delicious, high pitched, close-toothed _whines_. And Janus just had all the sweet time he needed to relish that soft, inviting heat, trying to cool down the delicious pressure he felt building up in him, coiling and throbbing just under his skin. The pace he was at was stimulating, yes, he’d be a fool to deny the clerk’s tight ass being a good ride, but still, principle. He was going to fuck this man into the wall and he couldn’t splutter out five minutes into it all.

Janus shrugged a leg from his shoulder, catching it with his arm, spreading the man’s legs wider around him, letting Janus grind himself deeper once he finished hilting himself, bucking his hips in a few shallow, quick thrusts to test how this worked out. The clerk slipped a bit, but he quickly scrabbled back up, those dangling arms now supporting weight as they pressed into the building behind them. Ah yes, they were in public, and Janus’ dick jumped in its confines, the little traitor reminding him he had a new predilection to think about.

And he’d get to that, especially as he picked his pace up, feeling the one arm he had a good portion of the clerk’s weight on beginning to strain from the constant weight it had to hold up without reprieve. He could practically fit his full length into the man now, thrusting hard enough to feel his sack press against the curve of the other man’s ass, just a tiny bit of pressure at just the right time to add a sweet note before he pulled back out. He let half his mind go slack in the pleasure, the other one roaring into fantasy territory as he kept his thrusts well-timed and hard enough to do his damndest to give those thin arms road rash and tear the grey fabric of his robes.

They were in public, yes, Janus rutting into the clerk like the other man was a bitch in heat, far enough down this little alley that they were almost invisible. Almost. Someone would find them, their approach unseen as Janus was lost in bending the clerk in two and the other quite obviously lost in blissful rapture. A shout would rise in the air, asking what they were doing, and Janus and his beau would have horror slip onto their faces, jerking to face the person who caught them. Janus could practically feel himself twitch hard in his partner’s ass as the shame crawled up his spine, hips going motionless. The one who caught them would sigh, probably chastising them, making shame curl in Janus’ gut suspiciously like arousal. And then Janus would lean back and give a few final, hard thrusts, grinning like a madman as he came, his partner moaning loud enough to be heard in the streets as he laid claim to him, the world crimping on the edges, blurring like deep water as a voice hummed in the back of his head.

“_Kinky, aren’t you_?”

Janus crashed back into reality, feeling his aetherial field blown wide open- but not wide enough to reach the streets- and the clerk’s intertwined harshly in it. Was he projecting in his half-aware state? He was, wasn’t he? The clerk’s breaths came quickly, his jaw slack as he breathed in time to Janus’ pace, but what awareness his fucked-out features suggested, his aetherial field made known. Amusement and a slam of lust was present on what was caressing Janus’ own halo, gentle questions just beneath the surface. Janus, despite his deep annoyance, only expressed his frustration by trying to give the man a few harsh thrusts. He didn’t intend to have his halo, so well-controlled usually, get to that point. It was a small miracle he didn’t accidentally create an onlooker, or worse, let the clerk peer into his memories.

Speaking of him, the clerk was surprisingly well put together for his first time, showing a terrifying amount of control in his abilities. Janus knew better than to create whatever whims came to his mind when he was in the throes of passion, even accidentally broadcasting his fantasy was mortifying to think. He checked again, and he didn’t feel any aberrant creations or thoughts slipping between his fingers. Janus’ first time ended with crystalline flower petals scattered around the bed, born from a desire to kiss his momentary love in the blossoming gardens as he came in her. And it took him a few more trysts to get a grip on his ability. And yet, here was this smug and much younger clerk, seemingly impervious to the effects that Janus should be having on him. The faint irritation must have boiled to the surface of his halo, because the other man just gave a breathless laugh, pushing his own amusement back.

Janus shut him up by adding perhaps a little bit more force and focus in his thrusts, hitting him dead-on with a vindictive grin. But he would admit, though, that his little fleeting fantasy had brought him terribly close, the current hard and punishing pace not at all helping Janus’ stamina in the slightest, even as he was wholly focused on his actions, not pleasure. But, he found some modicum of joy in making the tendrils in the clerk's halo go hazy instead of corporeal as the other man lost focus on that and focused more on the dick currently trying its hardest to impress.

Janus let go of the leg he kept spread wide, it instantly moved to his hip, pulling Janus closer, making his thrusts shorter, quicker. And Janus growled out a low moan, leaning down to kiss those dry lips, wet them again with his tongue and teeth. A few moans puffed into his mouth, but Janus was expecting to swallow something louder soon, his now-free hand going between them to grip the clerk’s cock in his hand. A sharp hiss landed in his mouth, hands not his grabbing his hair. He heard his name mumbled into his lips, making him smirk as he tightened his hold, stroking up in a fluid motion, knuckles sliding into a small puddle of precum before he rolled his wrist back down again, moving his hand in time to his shorter, faster thrusts.

The clerk was open-mouthed now, unable to kiss back, being too blissed-out to focus on returning any affection, murmuring Janus’ name along with platitudes to go faster, harder, grip him tighter, and each moan of his name went straight to the man’s prick. Janus happily obliged, savoring every moan that was spat into his mouth, every single nail that was suddenly dug into his scalp, the breathless gasp that made the clerk arch his back, how he tightened around him so that every thrust felt like a battle. Janus’ hand and the man’s belly dripped with cum, but Janus couldn’t get over his edge just yet. That coil of heat in Janus’s gut was tight, ready, but just out of reach, tantalizingly close and leaning closer with every harsh thrust. He just. Needed. A. Few. _More_.

Janus had to keep a firm grip on his mind as it gently floated in release, a hazy cloud that could send any stray thoughts he created plummeting into reality. Sadly, it was a short haze of pleasure, but like every one before it, left satisfaction planted bone-deep in him, limbs pleasantly heavy in exhaustion. His field radiated contentment, pressed into languidly by another that was just as relaxed and blithe. And with coming down came the sharpening of awareness and noticing that a pair of lips was gently kissing his cheek, a thumb brushing the other one, a gentle post-coital touch from the guy _whose name he still didn’t know_.

They locked eyes. Janus’ sense was lagging terribly behind his mouth. The clerk’s eyes were a light hue of gold, whereas Janus’ were deeper, almost metallic with an orange ring around the iris. The other man’s lips parted to say something, almost looking coy as his eyes flicked away from Janus’ own. But Janus was always faster, “Your eyes are piss-colored,” he mumbled, as delicate as a bull in a china shop.

The soft look quickly twisted to almost exaggerated disgust, the fingers on his cheek curling into his flesh as nails raked down his face, digging into his jawline in an attempt to push Janus’ face away. The contentment quickly withdrew, but not without curling into Janus’ halo in an aetherial slap. Janus let him move his face a few inches- he frankly deserved it once his mind caught up to his mouth. But the other man wanted off and… Janus half wanted to let him, but he was going to hit the floor the moment he tried to stand on his legs. But at the same time, it’d be _hilarious_. Choices, choices, and with the increasing violence of the struggle, Janus regrettably pulled his now-soft dick out of him with one jerky motion, slapping away a punch aimed at his soft member. After that, the clerk was let loose, an arm on the wall to steady himself as Janus quickly let go of his legs if only to avoid a possible kick to the head from the one that was on his shoulder.

The first few seconds the other man had on his own weight, his left leg buckled and he fell onto his knees, holding back an indignant scream, his robes pooled around his legs, covering up the evidence of their little tryst nicely. Chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, Janus held back a laugh, grabbing his own undergarments from the ground and putting them back on, doing a quick once over to check and see if any dirt was visible. Thankfully none, but Janus had to wipe some stray cum onto the backside of his pallium, out of plain view. By then, judging by how he couldn’t feel another halo trying to actively damage his own, the clerk’s fleeting anger had passed and Janus thought he’d be able to approach.

He offered a hand, again, tapping the man’s shoulder with it to get his attention. He looked up, narrowed his eyes at Janus, but then flicked them to the proffered hand. Vindictively, he took the hand, trying to squeeze it for what it’s worth, which wasn’t much at all. Janus once again easily pulled him to his feet, but this time let that hand go around his neck, leaning down to be a be a living crutch.

He listens to a few furious wheezes of breath, watches legs scrabble to find purchase on the ground, weak from having been thrown in an unfamiliar position and needing precious moments to recover. And recover he did, rocking on his feet a scant few seconds later, finding sure footing and leaning less heavily on Janus. Thankfully, the anger wasn’t back, but he levels a furious glare at Janus, quirks his lips, bares teeth, then finally gives a tired, heavy, close-eyed sigh, “My name is Hades.”

“I’d say mine, but you were chanting it earlier, so I think we’ve been introduced before,” Janus’ wolfish grin widens as he hears a scoff.

“You’re an asshole, did you know that?” Hades ran a hand through his hair before reaching back to fumble for his simple, bone-white mask, securing it and his hood over his face, scrubbing at dried spittle on the corners of his lips. He’d ignore the comment- Hades had enough time to come to terms with that, and Janus was very self-aware.

Janus opens his mouth to mention the gnarly bite mark on his neck instead, but the soft chiming of bells tolling through the streets made him widen his eyes instead. He and Hades both go rigid. Well, there went Hades’ break, the man in question lurching forwards, muttering something as he stumbled, limped, and then got his bearings and broke into a run.

He didn’t have pants on, but the robes hid that delicate fact. Janus watched Hades book it out of the alley, counting seconds in his head, knowing it would be quite conspicuous to any onlookers to see two men rushing out of the same place. Or maybe it wouldn’t, the concept of what the just did too outlandish to be their first assumption. Well, Janus wouldn’t take any chances. It was just him and his thoughts for a precious few moments.

It was very likely he just fucked up his chances on getting Hades to talk to him, but at the same time, would the man have given his name if he didn’t intend to continue their little… huh. Would Janus call it a relationship? It wasn’t verbally said, and he doubted the Amaurotine would ask, since they both knew Janus’ time here was ticking down every day. They both knew very well that Janus would return to Gracchi the first chance he got and that Hades would never consider immigrating to the city.

Huh. Actually, with how little he knew of the man, he was only assuming the latter. But with how bony, how studious he was- his goal was to be one of the leaders of this city!- it seemed about as likely as Janus soliciting citizenship in Amaurot. The thought made his skin crawl. He wasn’t more scholarly-oriented like Lucianus was, he’d fit in here like a square peg in a round hole. _And_ he’d have to actually write that apology letter. _Fuck that_.

After Janus deemed an acceptable pause, he strode confidently out of the alley, like it was the most common thing he could do. Nothing convinced people better that nothing was awry than acting like nothing happened at all. Perhaps he smelled faintly of sex and sweat, but the other people in the street gave him a respectable berth even when he was freshly-washed, so that was one problem efficiently taken care of before it sprouted. By sheer luck, the building Hades worked at was dead-on from where they had their little encounter, no need to accost one of the innocent passerby.

The front desk never liked Janus, especially as he swaggered in for the second time today, the two Amaurotines looking at him suspiciously, pausing in their work. But they never vocalized whatever was running in their heads, so Janus merely gave them a smirk and a one-handed flick of his wrist in greeting, shouldering past a door marked ‘_staff only! No entry beyond this point –management._’

Lucianus’ halo stabbed into him the moment he was through the door, _accusatory_ and _expressly tired_. Janus was still in a good mood, so he sidled up to the man’s desk, giving him a sloppy smile as he came to rest with a hand holding up his face and the other arm flopped on the marble of the counter.

Silence.

“You’re not going to ask…?” Janus tilted his head. He’d been waiting for the question, the reason why Lucianus was radiating the most ‘_I’m-done-with-you_’ aura into his halo, something he hadn’t felt since they were young and unnamed, Janus having stolen a concept prism from the forgemaster’s desk. It had ended poorly, but at the time, it seemed like an excellent idea, but in actuality it ended in two young adults sprawled and half-dead attempting to manifest an arm not meant for their young and bantam aether reserves.

“Honestly knowing you, I expected you to give me all the _dirty_ details of why your admirer rushed in clutching his neck, face as scarlet as your pallium’s edging.”

Janus gave an interested grunt. “Well, do I need to?”

Lucianus took a sharp breath, thinned his lips, closed his eyes, exhaled through his mouth, and then opened his mouth, “No.”

“Fine. Now, how’s the paperwork?” It didn’t seem to have even a small dent in it, but then again, maybe someone just refreshed the stack. Poor Lucianus, constantly in a chair and doing droll work. Why was he even in this city?

“Full of concepts and schematics as ever. How was the sex?”

“Excellent. I finally got the guy’s name after it too. It's H-“

Lucianus cut him off with a sharp _tsk_ and a single finger raised, “Amaroutines are anal about their true names. You don’t share them like penny-candy.”

“Well, this one is _very_ anal.”

He could feel Lucianus’ eyes roll behind the mask, even if he couldn’t see them, “_Janus_.”

“Luci_anus_.”

The man looked up to glare at him, hands moving away from his filing work to clasp themselves on a short pile of papers. “Fifteen hundred years and you still act like you’re a hundred and thirty five.”

“One of my many, many charms. Which _may or may not_ include back alley-“

“Do not. _Do not_ finish that. I do not even _want_ to know.” With a heavy sigh, Lucianus retracted his corona with a tired, but friendly, slap to the edges of Janus,’ returning to the droll filing work, but not before scratching between his eyes.

Silence settled comfortably between them, Janus lightly toying with Lucianus’ halo, poking and prodding and gently dodging light retaliation from his friendly onslaught. They had a calm, quiet physical banter with their halos, quiescence in conversation that only longtime friends shared. They were interrupted only by the gentle crackle of magic, a brief warning before a new stack of papers would arrive on the counter, appearing inside a little wire bin, the stack as thick as the length of Janus’ hand, but interestingly, a tiny, folded up note fluttered on the top.

Lucianus quickly added the stack to his own, now much-lower one, succeeding in bringing it back to the titanic pile Janus noticed on his first walk-in. Lucianus slapped a hand on the note before Janus could even begin reaching for it, having to lurch forwards. Lucianus peeked under his palm, like he was ascertaining if he managed to successfully swat a fly, a grunt of amusement coming from his mouth, mirrored in his halo. He took the note between two fingers, flicking his wrist towards Janus, “For you.”

And in garrulous, looping script, Janus’ name was written large on the folded note, sealed with a weak piece of paper adhesive that yielded easily to his fingers.

“_Janus,_

_Arete Court 432 W 78th Street, Apartment 88._

_My hours are 10-16 bell, we’ve been meeting during my 2-hour break._

_ -Hades_”

Complete with a little heart, inked black, next to the author’s name. Janus gave a huff of amusement, a smile upticking his lips. Lucianus pressed against his corona with curiosity, making Janus flick his eyes back to him. “It’s an address,” He stated, folding the paper and pointing it at Lucianus.

“Oh what a surprise, I think this is a first for you,” Lucianus had mock joy in his words, ending with a short laugh, smiling up at Janus.

“Hey, hey, _hey_!” Janus chastised him, a playful tone in his voice as he waggled the note, “Plenty people want a round two or _three_ from me!”

Lucianus placed a file into its rightful place, smirking in response, “_Sure_. Now how is Cyrus doing? Shouldn’t you be guarding him?”

“Hm? Ah, yes. He’s with one of those Convocation members or someone high up the ladder here. I don’t think murder is on the agenda, it’d take them too long to debate which method is the most humane I think,” Janus snorted through his nose, “… Though I should go back to my post. I think the meeting is going to be over soon anyways.”

“Want me to send a message back to your _little friend_?”

“…You know what, sure. I’ll let him know when Cyrus lets me have free roam tomorrow.”

A piece of paper slid his way, along with a small self-inking pen. “_Oh no_, I have a feeling you’ll be the cause of an impromptu vacation the next few days. There goes my chances of diminishing the pile…” Lucianus accepted the finished note, scowling at Janus’ penmanship, “You still write worse than a child learning their letters.”

“You could read it, though, right?”

No answer save for a shake of the head. With no more comments left to give, Janus stepped away, pressing a goodbye into Lucianus’ halo as he made for the door, the crackle of magic sending his reply somewhere higher in this building.

Maybe Amarout wasn’t all _that_ bad.


	2. Ira Animi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alt title: Elidibus has a shitty day

Elidibus just wanted to have his lunch in _peace_, and it seemed Lahabrea and his multiple attempts at camaraderie foiled his desire to relax every step of the way. Hells, Elidibus would go so far as to say the Convocation member began to cajole all the others into changing their lunches to be at the same time _and_ in the same place Elidibus skulked off to.

The first time, he simply thought it a fluke and changed the location and time of his needs. By the third, he began to suspect something. By the fifth, he was almost positive Lahabrea was actively tormenting him. And here he was, on the seventh instance of walking into what he thought would be a nice, isolated area of the Capitol to enjoy a book and some food, only to find Lahabrea had packed as many fellow Convocation members in it as he could.

Of course Lahabrea was here, sitting on the edge of the table, holding a bowl of soup and pointing animatedly at Igeyorhim with a spoon. And, most egregiously was the corona of Emet-Selch suffused through the room, curled in contentment within every nook and cranny it could be. The man himself was sitting as flagrantly as his corona, leaning on the back legs of a chair, feet crossed at the ankles on top of the table, reading from a book, licking his thumb before turning the pages.

Elidibus simply stood in the doorway, using his book as an impromptu plate for the neatly-wrapped sub he chose from the cafeteria downstairs, and watched the tomfoolery unfold. Igeyorhim only looked partially interested in what Lahabrea was jawing on about, Elidibus caught only the tail end of an explanation on something that was very much not her nor Elidibus’ own job description. Lahabrea never made an effort to explain the jargon of his theoretical studies either. Elidibus kept his own halo respectfully close to his body, unlike _Emet-Selch _and his _infuriating_ habit of using his corona to bother everyone in the room. Just where _did_ he learn such _fine_ technique, for he was admittedly the _youngest_ Convocation member and it was practically _unheard_ _of_ to be able to manipulate one’s-

Elidibus was rudely snapped out of his thoughts by the dizzying impact of both Lahabrea and Igeyorhim’s coronae against him. He could faintly make out _relief_ and _wild excitement_, but with his field so tightly wound and inflexible, only the strongest emotions would win out in reaching his mind. Seems like Emet’s obscene habits had begun to spread among the others. They’d have to have a word, even if Elidibus had to strongly resist the urge to reluctantly roll his field out and try to caress one of those tendrils of halo that moved near his feet.

He’d have to ask the next time they were alone. Which could have been now, if not for _Lahabrea’s pointless and annoying ‘icebreakers_.’

“Fancy meeting you here!” Lahabrea was oh-so-happy to chime in, as if he was able to hear Eldibus’ thoughts.

Elidibus would not give into the urge to grit his teeth so hard they cracked and flare his halo out with _rage_ and _hatred_. No, he needed to be calm in the face of this social hellion. Though, he did spread his corona out to push back against the two others, trying to hide his annoyance by pushing a more polite emotion to the surface for the both of them to feel. Only when they drew back to a polite distance did Elidibus accept the tendril of _amused pity_ that Emet-Selch was pressing into him, flaring back his feelings of _exasperation_.

“Fancy indeed,” Elidibus drawled back, trying to go for a monotone when every fiber of his being wanted to let his contempt bleed through. Just one lunch. Just one lunch to himself, that was _all_ he wanted.

Lahabrea watched him take the chair across from Emet-Selch, which was conveniently at the opposite end of where Lahabrea and Igeyorhim sat. But he wasn’t allowed quiet, oh no, Lahabrea had this uncanny, infuriating urge to be constantly. Using. His. _Hands_. The spoon he held was rhythmically tapping the edge of the bowl, a dull, clinking noise that only made Elidibus believe that this Lahabrea was a being engendered straight from the deepest pits of hell with the _express purpose_ of annoying him.

“Strange that we all take our lunch break at the same time and in the same place,” Igeyorhim’s voice carried the smallest hint of sarcasm, leaning forwards and pointedly looking at Lahabrea.

The clinking stopped, if only for Lahabrea to point at Igeyorhim with his spoon, “Well, _maybe_ we can take advantage of that and have some friendly banter! We’re only going to be working together for ludicrous hours for the next five thousand years!”

Yes, Lahabrea, _please_ remind everyone they have to deal with you until the next term elections. If he was going to run for his position again Elidibus was going to retire. He really was. How’d Lahabrea even get elected? Did all of Akademia Anyder (_and perhaps his apartment block_) vote for him just to be rid of his _incessant habits_?

Emet pressed another tendril meant to soothe into Elidibus’ corona, so perhaps this term of his wouldn’t be _that_ bad. He was getting along splendidly with this Emet-Selch, a bit _too splendidl_y for his tastes sometimes, but perhaps he said too much. At least he could get started on his lunch, even if his stomach was a roiling pit of acid and hate. Ignoring Lahabrea, Elidibus simply tried to focus on unwrapping his sandwich.

“Hmm… So how did you three lose your virginity?”

Elidibus’ fingers froze, his head snapping to Lahabrea, noting a slightly sheepish grin on his face. Igeyorhim was unfazed. Emet-Selch, damn him, seemed mighty _amused_ as his corona finally slithered back where it belonged- which was politely tight against his body _unles_s he was greeting someone who acknowledged him _and_ was within the correct distance- yet the man’s face was stoic. Elidibus was already on edge from Lahabrea’s incessant, social plotting, but surely Emet, _darling Emet_, wasn’t planning something _too_. Or worse: plotting _with_ Lahabrea. The horror.

Elidibus did have a particularly heated opinion on the past few generations of Amaurotines. Now, granted, he used to listen to the complaints of _his own_ elders back when he was but a thousand years old. He had to debate with those older than him on how no, the youth were not morally bankrupt and whatever other arguments were leveled against his generation and their proclivities. But honestly, what was with this generation and their _incessant horniness_ and disregard for _personal coronal space_.

Lahabrea was tapping his teeth on the metal clawtips of his gauntlets now, jerking his head to each of the other Convocation members seated at the table. Silence, as it should be, because Lahabrea was _very much_ overstepping many lines of social decency-

“You know the last Mitron? He used to throw amazing parties in one of the warehouses we kept all the marine exploration equipment,” A pause for Lahabrea to eat some of his soup, which was likely cold, and there was the scraping of that damned spoon _again_, “Mmph, now, okay. Mm. I might have gone a bit too deep into my cups at one of the parties and lost about… a lot of my sense of shame, so when this one researcher? Librarian? I don’t know, doesn’t matter. Anyways, they offered to… y’know, uh… suck my dick? They were nice looking enough, so I said sure and well! It was nice! Would definitely do it again. Uh, did… do it… again?”

Elidibus _wanted to die_. Just dissipate his aether over the sea. If only to never hear Lahabrea speak about his _sexual needs_ every again.

“Thank you, _Lahabrea_, that was the most _unneeded_ and _obscene_ comment I’ve _ever_ heard in public.” How much contempt could Elidibus cram into something he was trying to say politely? Quite a lot.

Emet-Selch, you _better_ speak up against this hussy, Elidibus silently pleaded, but it seemed the other Amaurotine only had his lips pursed in surprise, his head tilted. Igeyorhim tapped her fingers on the table, speaking up when Lahabrea opened his mouth. For a moment, Elidibus had _hope_.

“It’s not that bad. He didn’t really… describe it- _no that is not a prompt_,” She raised a finger up when Lahabrea made a noise in the middle of her sentence, stabbing it into his shoulder before soldiering on, “But, well, when I got my first adult job at the Bureau of the Secretariat, there was this one guy I swear was finding excuses to talk to me…”

Hope was truly the _worst_ emotion. Lahabrea seemed a bit surprised that Igeyorhim had jumped in- Elidibus caught that quick look towards Emet-Selch. Who, from the corner of Elidibus’ eyeholes, was still leaning back in his chair like nothing of interest was happening, hands gently clasped on the now-closed book on his lap.

“Well, I decided, fuck it, why not. And _never again_,” She finished smoothly, Lahabrea bobbing his head as he actively listened, turning away from her to look _straight at Elidibus_. Elidibus himself froze, mouth open and about to take the first bite of his sandwich, because damn Lahabrea and his _peanut gallery_, he was _hungry_.

“So-“ Lahabrea had the _nerve_ to open his mouth.

“Absolutely _not_, you lascivious _excuse_ for a Convocation sea-“

And finally, Emet-Selch decided to chime in, interrupting Elidibus’ vitriol, “Hmm, maybe I’ll contribute, seems only fair after Lahabrea and Igeyorhim so graciously spoke up.”

Elidibus’ blood ran cold. He shot the man a _look_, internally begging him to stop this tomfoolery and have an _ounce of sense_, because he was overstepping _privacy_ to tell _Lahabrea_ about last-

Wait, Lahabrea was keen. The man was leaning forwards, still with the soup bowl in one hand, spoon in the other, but without any of the fidgeting. Elidibus shot his gaze back to Emet-Selch, starting to assess the pros and cons of saying something now or hoping the other man will keep things that _should be private_, private. Igeyorhim took one look at Lahabrea’s stance, then Emet-Selch, and rubbed her hands, leaning back in her chair.

“Oh, it’s nothing that exciting, don’t look at me like that…” Emet-Selch’s smirk was plastered on his face, wide and jackal-like as he locked eyeholes with Elidibus.

_No. No, no, no_, Elidibus mouthed, throwing a hand up to prevent Lahabrea from reading his lips, but it was probably incriminating enough. Emet’s head tilted, the look almost pitying and Elidibus was going to scream as the other man opened his mouth and tilted his head towards Lahabrea instead:

“I only lost my virginity getting fucked in a back alley.”

For a few seconds, they all were silent. Then, Elidibus registered the clatter and crash of Lahabrea’s soup and spoon falling out of his hand, and all hell broke loose.

“You _what_-!?” Lahabrea forgot about his now-cold soup likely seeping into his robes, hands throwing up to grab at the sides of his head. Everyone lost control of their coronae in pure _shock_ at the admission.

“In public?” Igeyorhim was barely audible under the tail end of Lahabrea’s shout, jaw slack.

Thank the planet they all wore masks, it at least hid most of the horror and shock on their faces, but that was rendered moot with all their surface feelings now mixing together. However, Elidibus’ mind needed a moment to restart, rearrange facts. That slight frown when… The hasty admission of-

“_You liar_!” Elidibus hissed, stabbing an accusatory clawed finger at Emet-Selch, sending the room into another round of physical, audible, _and_ coronal shock so soon after the last. Well, only Lahabrea and Igeyorhim this time. And Emet-Selch _still_ lounged like this was nothing for him.

“Wait_ hold up_-“ Lahabrea had the indignity of speaking, but the moment Elidibus snapped his head to him, the man raised both hands up, trying to appear non-threatening, field jumping with passivity and submission. After knowing Elidibus wasn’t going to bite his fingers off, his left hand slid to Emet, along with his gaze, “How big?”

Elidibus regretted allowing him the chance to speak, not even glancing at Emet. Surely he wouldn’t… And by Lahabrea’s face and the way Igeyohrim pulled a hand to her mouth and her forgotten salad into her lap, Elidibus _had_ to look.

Emet-Selch did, in fact, raise his hands. They were currently apart an _obscene_ degree, a bit shorter than the distance from clavicle to clavicle, a prideful smirk on the Amaurotine’s lips. “Could barely get my fingers around it,” He admitted that with no sense of shame at all, like he was merely describing a part of some simple creation, making Elidibus believe him then and there that he was_ absolutely not fooling with them_.

“Right. Now how big’s Elidibus?”

Elidibus hacked a sharp, indignant noise as his head snapped to Lahabrea, who visibly_ flinched_, as he _should_, because this particular Amaurotine was making Elidibus actively contemplate the merits of murder and didn’t bother to hide it in his halo. And he was going to lunge for the kill, morals be _damned_, because Lahabrea was amoral to _begin with_, his actions stopped only by catching Emet _actually move his hands_ in the corner of his eye.

Those hands moved to what could be considered a below average (but _infuriatingly_ accurate) span and were coupled with a disappointed quirk of the lips. In comparison to the previous span, it was smaller by leaps and bounds.

Now, the following sequence of events play out nearly simultaneously. However, they are listed in a numbered order, based on how cacophonous in nature they are:

  1. Elidibus shrieking loud enough to make fingers on a chalkboard sound like a mercy, throwing his (uneaten) sandwich at Emet-Selch’s mask while bellowing, “You _WHORE_,” at none other than Emet, lunging at him whiile trying to scrabble for purchase on the table.
  2. Lahabrea throwing his head back in raucous peals of laughter, only rising in volume as the above scenario plays out, ending with him losing his balance from his own spirited cackling and falling off his already-precarious seat on the table’s edge, landing on his back with a loud yelp and a (much quieter) moan of pain.
  3. Emet-Selch attempting to save face by shouting back at Elidibus (“It was _my_ first time with you!” to receive a fuming reply of “Don’t you _dare_ try to use smoke and mirrors on me now!”) while trying to pull sandwich meat, cheese, and lettuce off his robes and deal with Elidibus sprawled on the table, clutching his collar and shaking him.
  4. Igeyorhim watching the proceedings with a blank face, clutching her salad to her chest, carefully avoiding one of Lahabrea’s flailing legs when he inevitably fell off.

The entire pandemonium comes to a close when the room to the door is practically kicked off its hinges, the violent slam of the knob hitting the wall making everyone (except Lahabrea, who merely twitches and gives a short, pained moan) jump slightly, three red masks whipping to the entrance at the same time as the mysterious fifth Amaurotine shouts over them, “What the fucking _fuck_ is going on in here?!”

Nabriales, absolutely enraged, heaves a few breaths, clutching the doorframe with his right hand, teeth grit and bared as he assesses the situation. Igeyorhim silently gets up, trying to make a trot for the door, but Nabriales stops her with his body in the doorframe.

“The _entire floor_ below you could hear your _juvenile_ screaming, let alone _this one_. You’re _elected officials_ for Amarout’s _sake_! Not some _pubescent children_ starting a lunchtime _riot_.” He gestures at Emet-Selch’s robes, which despite its owner’s best efforts still bear bits of meat and cheese on it. The owner in question quickly looks down for a quick glance, scowling.

Elidibus makes a noise, attempting to defend himself, but Nabriales makes a sharp, angry vocalization and finger-point back at him before speaking, “I _especially_ don’t want to hear lip from you, _Elidibus_. You’ve been re-elected _twice_ now, _come_ _on_!”

The chastisement prompted Elidibus to let go of Emet-Selch’s robes, shame burning hot on his face and his aetherial halo. Nabriales fixes his gaze on Igeyorhim and presumes she probably is the most innocent party in this brawl, because he begins to shift, but not with one last ultimatum, said in a lower, more conversational tone:

“Pull your coronae back to something at least a _put-together adult_ would have, especially _you_,” A finger stabs at Emet-Selch, “And _pray_ the rumors stay in the building. You lot haven’t even been in office for a moon. _Seriously_?”

Igeyorhim is permitted to pass. Nabriales gives the remaining men a hard stare, mostly to Emet-Selch and Elidibus, before settling on the still-downed Lahabrea, who had simply consigned himself to the floor. With a disgusted grunt and a twitch of his lips, Nabriales steps forwards to offer him a hand up.

“We will talk about this _later_,” Elidibus hisses, earning a snap of cloth as Nabriales’ head is now staring at them, no doubt he heard him despite his best attempt at staying furtive. Elidibus grits his teeth and raises his hands in surrender, letting Emet-Selch swagger out the door, not an inch of shame in his figure. And Elidibus, shame partially sousing his utter rage, cannot abide the chance of having to help Lahabrea up should Nabriales ever have that absolutely _disturbing_ notion. At the cost of maybe some of his pride, Elidibus slithers away out the door, praying that there is something left for him in the cafeteria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Convocation is just overworked salarymen and SE has not denied me this assesment yet


End file.
